"Two extra coppers? For this? The grain of this wood is screaming in agony, sir."
"So this is the celebrated art of negotiation? How wonderfully amusing."
"Lady, your oven is a national treasure. We must taste this creation immediately!"
The voice was loud, absolutely feral, and bounced violently across the packed streets of the capital's central marketplace.
Cherion pinched the bridge of his nose and let out the kind of exhausted sigh that felt spiritually damaging. Slowly, he looked up and locked eyes with Iryna, who was currently looming over a horrified street vendor with both hands on her hips and the energy of someone one minor inconvenience away from starting a revolution.
